A day is measured in hours, minutes and seconds. I measure it in moments, significant things that happen. The only times of the day I concern myself with is when it’s time to go home and when the medications are finally putting me to sleep. The moments of the day that are the most important are the moments I have to restrain myself, from doing things in front of other people. Things such as; showing emotion, showing I’m in pain, talking about either of those things with anyone, shaking, sweating profusely, letting my anxiety take hold, slurring my words, being paranoid or getting startled way too easily. Sometimes I slip up and people notice, but I laugh it off or pretend it never happened. I don’t like staring and I don’t like pity. I want my privacy and I want my space. I don’t like to be touched, snuck up on, being around large groups, stuck in a space with one other person, or someone standing behind me or too near me. I get to wake up groggy, near nauseated, confused and dizzy every single morning. After a night or nightmares, night terrors and sometimes even night paralysis. Being woken, well more like thrown, from sleep due to the fear, horror, or even sadness that has stricken me so suddenly. Startling my roommate with my sleep talking, screaming, midnight crying or massive anxiety attacks. Then to wake up in a haze and get up and take more meds to make me function and drowsy, try to counteract with energy drinks  so I can walk straight and see somewhat clearly. Sometimes, mostly lately, I don’t make my alarm and end up sleeping through half the day. Then lean over to see many text messages and missed calls from my supervisor. Head to work to deal with that and onto the mind-numbing job I do. Try not to freak out. Go back to my barracks. Take more meds to help me tire out my everything. Groggily watch half a show, crawl into bed to lay there for a few hours before I finally meet my drowsiness and onto sleep. Not even an hour later, woken. And again and again. Everyday is a cycle of endless cocktails of meds, fighting the fatigue and the not wanting to ever leave my room again. Everyday is a monstrous battle against the brutal bitch my mind has become. Don’t, you can’t, you aren’t able, you are disabled, you are broken, you won’t make it, let me sleep, stay awake, don’t eat, I’m hungry, isolate, become mute, silence is better than bullshit and lies, I hate you, I hate everyone, I miss real sleep, so many thoughts, never ending… Everyday. 

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